Eternally Yours
by Rose Diamund
Summary: Re-write of PotO. A Young Christine Daae has met her Angel, who will become her one and only love. But when fate brings her childhood sweetheart Raoul and Erik's undeniable thirst for blood, it seems their love is forbidden. A tale of lost love, tragedy, and hatred. E/C. LND MEG.
1. The Sunset and the Storm

**Author's Note: **Well I just couldn't help myself. I actually love the idea of this story, and yes, it is another re-write. But I assure you, this is extremely different from my other re-write 'The Wicked'. This chapter is vitally important, especially the bit when Christine first meets Erik. That bit pops up again in the last chapter actually. Anywho, please review and tell me your thoughts. I am really excited about this story - I think the plot line is my best of all my stories - and I want to write it the best I can. So feel free to critique. Thanks! And so now I give you chapter one of 'Eternally Yours'.

_{Rose Diamund}_

* * *

**Eternally Yours**

**1. The Sunset and the Storm**

Thunder shrieked and boomed shrilly, vibrating the dark purple sky above. Bright purple lightning scarred the sky right down the middle, lighting up the rain falling down in sheets. Each time the rain hit the pavement, it made the sound of a whip cracking; _whack, whack, whack_.

A young girl with tumbling dark curls and rosy pink cheeks cowered into the black leather seats of a carriage, her tender little hands squeezing as tight as they could around an older woman's upper arm. A small whimpering noise escaped the girl's lips as the thunder screamed again.

The woman smiled down at her, and stroked the girl's curls lightly, "Shh, my dear. The thunder will not hurt you." She tilted the girl's chin upward a bit, so that she was looking up at the woman. Seeing her better in the dim light, the older woman – Marie Giry – could see the girl was crying, soft, sweet tears fall down her cheeks; the tears shimmered a bit as lightning struck again. The jagged lightning reflected in the girl's gentle brown eyes. Marie pulled the small girl into an embrace, feeling the girl sob quietly into her shoulder. She stroked her back, "Shh, Christine. It's all right."

Christine looked up at Marie with big, questioning tear-filled eyes, "M-My F-F-Father…" She said, her lip quivering as she spoke, "He-he is in Heaven now? Can… c-can he not get there in the storm?" Her voice was filled with worry and fright, and Marie felt her heart tear to shreds. The poor thing was worried her Father wouldn't get to Heaven in the storm.

With her thumb, Marie wiped away a few stray tears from the seven-year-olds cheek, "Of course he has reached Heaven, my dear. The Angels will have taken him with open arms."

Christine smiled at this, revealing a gap between her two front teeth, but when thunder boomed, she cowered back into Marie's arms, burying her face in her shoulder. A few moments later, Christine looked out the window, watching the storms with wonder. Her voice was barely a whisper; "He is watching me now? From his place among the Angels?" She fiddled with a necklace she wore, a small silver chain with a single small diamond in the shape of a heart in the center. Her next words chilled Marie's bones, "He promised to send me the Angel of Music. He swore to me I would be protected." Her voice was hardly audible over the storm, and after those few words left her mouth there was no more talking in the carriage. The only sound was the mixture of thunder and the everlasting _thwack, thwack_ of the rain on the roof of the carriage.

Soon, the carriage slowed in front of a big building. Little Christine pressed her nose to the cold glass of the carriage window and stared at what would be her new home – the Opera Populaire. The massive building paled ominously in the cold light of the storm. Christine shuddered a bit, looking at this extremely large building. It didn't look like her old home, which was small and home-like. With a squeaky wooden floor and worn-out, faded furniture. It wasn't anything special, and surely nothing glamorous, but it had always been Christine's home.

Until now.

_BOOM! _A huge crack of thunder raged through the sky, and Christine heard a scream – assuming it was herself who had screamed.

"Come away from that window Christine," Marie said gently. And when Christine did, she hugged her tenderly, "It's all right, deary," she said when she felt Christine shaking in her arms. "You're all right." Marie looked at the child before her – this beautiful child. Her mother died in childbirth, and now her father dead. The poor child.

"Come along, Christine. You must be sleepy," Marie said, putting Christine's hat on her little head. Christine nodded in fervent agreement. Marie opened the door of the carriage and exited, putting her hands over her head to keep the rain from her. She went to the front of the carriage and handed the driver a few silver coins. Then she and Christine ran towards the large building, shuddering with cold as they entered.

"This… is where I'll live?" Christine looked at the huge, dark room around her, her voice echoing. White marble steps led up, to what she assumed was the balcony seats. There were all different directions to go.

"Yes, dear. You'll sleep with the rest of the chorus girls, right near my daughter, Meg. She'll help you with anything you need." Marie answered, shaking out her fur coat.

Christine stared at the room in shock and questioning, "Have you and Meg lived her all your life?"

"Yes."

"Is it quite lovely living here?"

Marie laughed a little, patting Christine on her shoulder, "Oh, yes dear. It's lovely. You get to dance onstage, and sing everyday. There are always rehearsals and performances, and so many places to explore."

Christine looked satisfied with that answer, "I've always loved singing. Daddy says I was gifted by the Angels." Her voice softened at the mention of her Father, "He said I would always be his little Prima Donna." Her eyes looked distant, and her lip puckered slightly in a sad little expression. She sniffled a little, and felt tears form in her eyes, "Daddy… said…"

Marie kneeled down, her heart breaking as she watched this little girl. So lost, so innocent and ignorant of anything bad. She smiled at Christine a sad smile, she put a strand of Christine's hand behind her ear, "He would be so proud of you, my dear." She whispered, "For being so strong. So let's do that, shall we? Let's be strong for Daddy."

Christine nodded, sniffling a bit, "I will. I will be strong for Daddy. That's what he told me to do."

"Well, then, we must do what Daddy told us, right? So dry your tears, darling." Marie pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to Christine.

Christine rubbed her eyes, "I'm sleepy."

"I know you are, dear. Meg should still be backstage. I'll have her show you to your bedroom." The two walked down a corridor, and Christine found herself staring at a closed curtain.

"Meg?" Marie called, and the moment she did, a little blonde head popped up from across the stage.

"Mother?" Said Meg, skipping towards her mother. She stopped when she saw Christine, and she cocked her head to the side with wonder, "Who's this?"

"I'm Christine Daae," The seven-year-old announced proudly. "I'm going to live here at the Opera."

Meg's sapphire blue eyes lit up, "Really? We don't have any girls my age. I don't have too many friends," She traced her foot in a shape across the floor, her little pink ballet shoe getting dirty. She looked up at Christine, "How old are you?"

"Seven. I'll be eight in two months," Christine held up her index and middle finger proudly.

Meg grinned a toothy grin, "I'm seven, too. I'll be eight in three weeks."

"Meg," Marie said, "Would you mind to show Christine around a bit? It's eight o'clock, though. So be in bed by nine thirty."

Meg smiled, "Yes, mommy." She stretched her hands upward, silently asking for a hug. Marie bent down and kissed her daughter on her forehead, feeling Meg's little arms wrap around her back as much as they could.

"Goodnight, Christine," Marie kissed Christine's forehead, and saw the little girl's face light up.

"Goodnight, Madame Giry."

With that, Marie left the backstage area.

"Would you like me to show you around?" Meg asked.

"Yes, please."

The two girls started walked.

"Where are we going?" Christine asked, after a few moments of silence.

Meg replied, "To the chapel. It's one of my favorite places to go. It's so pretty, especially in the sunlight, when the glass window look like the lit up."

"It sounds beautiful." Christine mused, imagining it in her head.

Meg gestured to the bag Christine was carrying, "Would you like me to take that?"

"No, thank you. It has all my really important things in it," Christine replied sweetly.

Meg tilted her head, "Like what?"

"I have a locket my mommy left me, and a picture of my Daddy, and my favorite teddy bear, his name is Johnny." Christine answered, "And a few other things, with my clothes."

Meg frowned, "But why did you come with my Mama then? Where are your Mommy and Daddy?"

Christine's expression wavered, "My mommy died while giving birth to my little brother. But… my brother was born dead." Tears filled her eyes, "That was when I was three. And my Daddy… He went to the Angels just tonight."

"I'm sorry," Meg said quietly. She picked at a loose threat on her little white gown, "Mama says that my Father is gone, but I think he's still alive. I sometimes hear her talking about him with her friend. She doesn't know I listen, but I do. One time, she even said he sent her a letter for my sixth birthday, but she burnt it." She frowned, "I don't know why. She sounds so angry whenever she talks about him." Her voice grew soft, "I don't even know his name."

Christine let a tear escape down her cheek, "I'm sorry, Meg. I miss my Daddy, too."

"Here we are!" Meg brightened. She galloped down some stairs and then they were in a beautiful candle-lit room. It was small, but there was a stain-glass window with all different blues and reds and greens and yellows. Pictures of Angels were hanging on the walls, candles were before them.

Christine sat down on her knees, and dug around in her bag and took out her picture of her Father. She put the picture on a small pedestal, which was right in front of an unlit candle.

"I need to go change," Meg said softly. "The bedroom is just down that corridor," She pointed, "And your bed will be right next to mine. All right?"

"All right," Christine whispered breathlessly, staring at the picture of her Father, sitting there beautifully. It looked lovely, like she was honoring him by doing so. And she knew she was. Meg left the chapel, and Christine smiled at the picture, picking up a stick and lighting it. She lit the candle and blew out the stick.

"Christine…" A voice said. It was a man's voice – no, not a man. It was youthful, perhaps teenage. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, drifting off the walls and coming from above. "Christine…"

Christine looked up, whispering to the stone ceiling, "Angel? Is it you, my Angel of Music?"

There was a pause, "Yes."

Christine felt as if she were floating. He was here!

"W…where are you?"

"I am watching you, Christine."

"Yes, but… can I see you? May I see my Angel?" She asked innocently.

Another hesitation. "No, I am afraid it is not possible."

"But… why?"

"I cannot explain now."

"All right, Angel."

A young boy of fourteen or fifteen looked down on Christine. His hair was jet-black, his eyes a smoky green, and he wore a clean white half mask on the right side of his face. "Tell me what's happened, Christine…"

"My Father… he is among you now, is he not?" She sounded worried, "Has he not arrived in Heaven?"

"No, no, he is here."

He heard a sigh of relief from the small girl.

"I was frightened he was not with the Angels. That he could not find his way in the storm."

He thought, for a moment, and said, "But, Christine, don't you remember? Before the storm started, didn't you see a beautiful sunset?"

Christine smiled, remembering the sight she saw from the carriage one short hour before the clouds rolled in. The sun had been a flaming orange orb, streaks of pink and purple and blue mixing into the sun. She had loved that sight, "Yes," She replied. "It was beautiful."

"Wasn't it?" He answered, "But haven't you heard, Christine? When someone passes away, if they are a good, honest, beautiful person, a sunset comes up just before evening. If it is a beautiful sunset, it is the journey of the person's soul being transported from earth to Heaven. Couldn't you nearly see it Christine? Couldn't you see your Father's soul, rising to the Angels and Heavens?"

"Yes," Christine said, closing her eyes and picturing it as clearly as she could. It was true, and it made perfect sense. The sunset was a clear view of God's work, a beautiful transportation of the soul to Heaven. And the more beautiful the sunset, the purer the person. Right? "So, he is in Heaven?"

"Of course. You saw it with your own eyes, didn't you?"

Christine smiled, comforted by the thought. "Yes… I did!" She laughed a bit, feeling relieved and happy.

"Christine?" Meg's voice came suddenly.

"I must go," Her Angel said hastily.

"Wait, no! Will you come back?"

"Of course."

"Christine?" Meg appeared, "Who were you talking to?"

Christine smiled up at the ceiling, "No one."

"Well, come on. I was waiting for you. It's nine fifteen. You need to get in your nightdress and come to bed." Meg said.

Christine nodded, "All right. I'm coming."

For the next few minutes, Christine could think of nothing but her Angel. He had come to her! She had waited for so long. And he was here now!

Christie settled under her covered, yawning a little. "Goodnight, Meg."

"Goodnight Christine."

Christine closed her eyes, smiling at the thought of her Angel returning. She yawned again, and snuggled further into the mattress. And soon, she was asleep in her new home.


	2. Stranger Then You Dreamt It

**A/N: **No... reviews? Hold on, let my dry my unending tears. Anywho, like I said I'm excited about this story, so I'm not really writing for people to read, but for myself to enjoy :) But still, anyone of the 3 who put on alert and the 1 who favorited, PLEASE tell me what you think. And really anyone who looks at it can give me opinions, ideas, critiques. Enjoy :)

_{Rose Diamund}_

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**Eternally Yours**

**2. Stranger Then You Dreamt It**

_**Ten Years Later**_

Winter had only just set in. It seemed as though the whole was showered lightly with an icy white frost. A seventeen-year-old Christine Daae pulled her coat farther around her. A shiver ran up and down her spine, but she kept walking despite. The winter-touched forest was beautiful – the leaves not quite white, but not their usual color. They were a sort of icy blue. Much of the branches on the sky-kissing trees were frozen over in a thin sheet of ice. Christine could see her breath in a quickly evaporating cloud just in front of her. The iced grass and rocks crunched under her feet.

Soon, she reached a small clearing. A pond had been frozen over, and was now unmoving. Tinted white plants began to wilt around it, and above the bright sky made the small place have a slight glow. Christine sat down, staring up at the sky from her usual place sitting by the creek. The sun began to kiss the treetops, letting its last bright orange triumphant rays stretch across the sky. A sweet pink-ish color mixed in with the fiery orange, and made a few splotches of light purple clouds. Today's sunset was breathtaking. Christine felt her eyes close, and still she could see the sunset clearly in her mind. This one similar to the one her father's sunset. She thought in her mind her silent prayer she had been saying for ten years now: _God bless the soul rising towards the Heavens this evening, and deliver them to the Kingdom of the Lord. _

She opened her eyes, and stared at the sunset for the next hour or so, until the sky was a medium blue, the sun completely out of sight. She rose to her feet, and began her journey back to the Opera House. She'd walked about a mile or so before reaching Paris. She smiled as she remembered the miraculous sunset this evening. Everyday for ten years, at exactly six o'clock she'd disappear from the opera house and only return after eight o'clock. She had told no one of her journeys to watch the sunset by her favorite little creek.

No one except her Angel.

She told her Angel everything. He visited her most everyday, but sometimes he skipped days – occasionally weeks at a time. But when he left, she always felt alone. Abandoned. It was true she had Meg and Madame Giry, but they were nothing compared to _Her Angel. _As if he were the part of her heart she had been missing. And still she had never seen him face-to-face.

He had been giving her singing lessons since she was just a child of seven years. He has always given her praise, and called her his Angel.

Christine now sat in the chapel, staring at the lit candle in front of her Father's picture. She was sitting on the windowsill, made of cold stone. She moved her gaze to the stain-glass window. It was a beautifully crafted painting, with a mix of bright yellows and greens and blues and whites. It was only then that she noticed a small note in the corner of the windowsill. She leaned forward and picked it up. In a familiar, neat handwriting it said:

_To my Angel._

She grinned and opened the note.

_Christine, I have to apologize for my absence these past weeks. I have missed hearing you're lovely voice. I have been writing an Opera of my own, and more importantly a song for you. I will see you tomorrow, though I regret to say you will not see me. I shall resume lessons with you in the weekend. I am please to know you have returned to the creek, even in such ghastly weather as this. You are a true Angel in every way. _

_Know that I am always protecting you, my dear. Never lose faith in that. And never forget that, no matter what happens. _

_~Your Angel of Music_

Christine frowned. What was that 'You will not see me'? Did that mean he was watching her, even when he was not giving lessons? Wasn't that strange? And why tomorrow? What was so special about tomorrow?

However, the thought was put out of her head when she heard the call, "Christine!" And heard the sound of ballet slipping faintly tapping on the stairs. As quickly as she could, Christine hid the note in her shoe.

"Christine. Ah, there you are. I knew I'd find you here." Meg appeared in the doorway, and she entered the chapel. "Where've you been hiding this evening?"

Christine smiled, "Just around the Opera."

"Everyday?"

"I have lived here for ten years of my life, and still I do not know all the rooms and places to go," Christine said with a small laugh.

Meg grinned, "I came to find you. We have rehearsals now."

"At eight thirty?" Christine frowned.

Meg nodded.

Christine sighed, but stood and walked with her friend to the backstage. Marie walked up to the two, "Christine, where in the world have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you. You missed a rehearsal!"

Christine looked down, "I'm sorry, Madame. I've been busy."

"You've been busy these past few years?" Marie tapped her foot, "I expect you to be here all day, everyday, unless you tell me otherwise."

Christine opened her mouth to protest, but she knew better, "I'm sorry, Madame Giry."

Marie gave a small smile and rubbed her hand up and down Christine's arm, "No real harm done, my dear. But you must be here!"

"Yes, Madame."

"Come on!" A chorus girl hissed to Christine, and Christine jolted into the tight line of chorus girls, attaching the chains to her wrists and ankles as quickly as possible. She danced around sensually, in her tight costume, feeling as though everybody's eyes were directly on her. She knew they weren't. But she always felt embarrassed dancing around onstage, with these ridiculous costumes on, as if she were doing somethin wrong to make herself stand out. Her hair flew about, and she cursed under her breath for forgetting to tie it back.

Suddenly, a huge voice boomed, making the orchestra stop playing its music, "No, no, NO!" It was Carlotta Biancaroli, the Prima Donna of the Opera, with the thickest Italian accent and the most off-key operatic voice you would ever hear. Christine groaned quietly, already irritated before Carlotta's obnoxious interruption.

"These a'dancers, they take all the a'ttention off a' me, eh? Why, why, why? I am the Prima Donna, aren't I? Why should a' these amateurs get the spotlight over me?" She complained angrily.

Andre, one of the two new managers, sighed, "Carlotta, please. It is their dance. You have your solos but for this one part they are meant to be the center of attention. Later on – "

"There is no later on, there is now!" Carlotta shrieked. "And I will not a' have it like this!"

"Please, Carlotta," Richard, the other manager said. "You will get the spotlight – "

"Either you will a' change it or I leave! Bye-bye!"

"This is simply ridiculous," Marie cut in. "Carlotta, I have had quite enough of your foolishness. Either you will except the scene as it is, or you may go 'bye-bye'."

"Madame, really!" Richard exclaimed at Marie.

"Is a' that so? Well, then. You a' won't be seeing me again!" Carlotta screeched.

"Carlotta! La Carlotta wait!" Andre called after the fuming Prima Donna.

"Goddess of song!" Richard called to her, trying to get her back to no avail.

The whole room was silent as they heard the door slam. Andre turned to Marie, anger flickered in his eyes, "Madame… would you mind explaining to me why you just threw out our Prima Donna?"

Marie blinked, as though she hadn't a care in the world, "Ah but Monsieur I threw no one out. I merely gave her a choice."

"We shall have to refund a full house now! All thanks to you, Marie!" Richard cried. "The show is tomorrow, and there is no replacement for La Carlotta – "

"Christine Daae could sing the part, Monsieur." Marie replied coolly.

Andre wrinkled his nose, "A chorus girl? Marie, you must be joking."

"I assure you," Marie turned her gaze to Christine, who was standing still as a stone at hearing her name. Marie's clear blue eyes had a strange gleam to them, "She has been well taught."

Christine felt her chest tighten. Had Madame Giry just hinted that she _knew _about her Angel?

Richard looked Christine up and down. She was a slender little thing, not too tall but certainly not short. She had full curves, and an innocent looking face, with sweet brown eyes and soft, dark curls. When she danced or even moved it was graceful. Her speaking voice was tender and sweet, perhaps her singing voice was. "Step up, girl." He said simply, his voice a bit sharper than he had intended.

Without saying a word, Christine came to center stage. She looked out over the empty red seats, feeling a lump rise in her throat. Everyone in the Opera _was _watching her now, waiting for her to fail. She tried to stop her whole body from shaking.

"Now, Mademoiselle Daae, who has taught you to sing?" Richard asked, looking her from head to toe.

"I…I do not know his name, Monsieur." Christine hardly recognized her voice, it came out in a squeak.

"And you are the daughter of Gustave Daae? The violinist from Sweden?" Andre inquired.

"His only child, Monsieur."

Andre and Richard looked at each other, exchanging a glance. But then, Richard said, "Maestro."

The Maestro nodded turned to Christine, "From the beginning of the aria, Christine."

The soft music was sweet and delicate, and at hearing it Christine was calmed a bit. She thought of the words to come, and when it was time for her to sing to made sure to sing with as much strength as she could – what her Angel always told her to do.

"_Think of me… Think of my fondly, when we've said goodbye…_

_Remember me… once in a while, please promise me you'll try…_

_When you find… that once again you long, to take your heart back and be free…_

_If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me…"_

Christine's tender voice filled the room, and the two managers stood staring in awe. Marie was smiling now, grinning. Erik had taught her well.

"_Think of all the things we've shared and seen… don't think about the way, things might have been…_

_Think of me… Think of me waking, silent and resigned…_

_Imagine me… trying to hard to put you from my mind…_

_Recall those days, think back on all those times…_

_Think of those things we'll never do…_

_There will never be a day… when I won't think, of you…"_

Christine's arms hung limply at her sides, her posture was perfectly straight, and she raised her eyes to the imaginary audience. Her Angel's words rung clearly in her mind, telling her what to do, as he always had.

Out of the corner of her eye, Christine could see Carlotta and her husband, Piangi, staring at her. She could almost feel their eyes burning into her back.

"_Flowers fade… the fruits of summer fade…_

_They have their seasons, so do we…_

_But please promise me, that sometimes… you will think…_

_Of me!"_

A huge wave of applause came, and Christine found herself grinning.

* * *

Christine was getting ready for bed, tying the laces on her nightdress firmly on her slender waist. She was just about to blow out the candles, when there was a knock on the door. Christine went over and opened it, and saw Marie staring back at her. "Madame, please come in." Over the years, Christine had received a dressing room of her own, at Marie's request. As if Marie knew she'd use it.

Marie entered, "You did very well in rehearsal today, Christine. Do you believe you'll be ready for the performance tomorrow?"

Christine's entire body froze. Tomorrow? The performance was… _tomorrow? 'I'll be watching you tomorrow, but you will not see me' _is what her Angel said. How did he know?

"Christine?" Marie lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh, what? Ah, yes. I believe I'll be ready." Christine stuttered.

Marie shut the door and gestured to a chair, "May I sit?" Christine nodded numbly, saying nothing. Marie was silent for a moment, but then spoke, her voice low, "Christine… how long ago was it that you were visited by the man you know as your Angel of Music?"

Christine's eyes widened, "You… you…"

"Yes, Christine. I know all about that. Now answer me."

Christine thought, "A bit over ten years now. Madame – "

"Are you aware of the Opera Ghost?"

"The Phantom of the Opera."

"Exactly."

Christine frowned, "Madame, I am afraid I do not understand. Why are you telling me all this now?"

"Tell me what you know of the Phantom." Marie said flatly, without answering Christine's inquiry.

"I know that he demands a salary… That he insists upon this being his Opera House… and when things don't go his way…" Her voice trailer off a bit. She – and the rest of the Opera – had been frightened of the Phantom for years. He began to strike before she had come to the Opera, apparently. Christine looked up, "But I also know that he has not appeared in weeks."

"No, he hasn't." Marie's eyes lowered so that she was looking at Christine, "And neither has your Angel."

Christine's heart froze, "I do not know what you mean, Madame. But I really think – "

"Christine, you must _think." _Marie insisted, "How your Angel acts, when he comes to you… and then think of the Phantom." Marie's eyes held a sad element to them, but it was only a tint of sorrow in her hard blue eyes.

Christine bit her lip, staring in shock and horror at Marie.

"Christine, I know him. His name is Erik Destler. He is your Angel, and he is the Phantom of the Opera."


	3. Much too Beautiful

**__********A/N: **What must I do to get you guys to review? 2 people out of 55 visitors review. THANK YOU to you two! Anywho, I am sorry for the terribly short chapter. I didn't know how to drag this out longer, so I kind just got straight to the point lol. I hope you like it! And I promise next chapter will be longer! Oh, and some of you may have noticed that I changed the summary a bit. It says 'LND MEG' there now. It's true, in this story we will have that insane, pitiful Meg as in LND. Except Madame Giry will not encouraging this, Meg will jsut become obsessed with Erik on her own. I thought it could make for a more interesting plot. You'll see hints of her jealousy of Christine and craziness in the next few chapters, but it will really come out much later. Anyways, I'll stop rambling now and let you guys read! oh, and did i forget to mention? REVIEW. Thankyou :D

_{Rose Diamund}_

* * *

**Eternally Yours**

**3. Much Too Beautiful**

Christine's eyes widened, anger and shock warred in her mind. "You… I... it can't be…" She stuttered stupidly. She moved her gaze to the floor, then back at Marie, who was staring at her with a hard expression plastered on her face. Her eyes cut into Christine.

"Christine, I know Erik. I have met him, seen him, spoken with him – "

"No, Madame Giry, you know the phantom. You do not know my Angel of Music." Christine's voice softened, thinking of him, "He is kind and gentle. He knows me, inside and out. He understands… he is my guardian. And I cannot – will not – believe he is capable of such wickedness, Madame. It is not possible."

Marie's expression softened, she sighed. This would not be easy. "My dear, ever since you have arrived at the Opera Erik has been fascinated with you. He finds a friend in you, perhaps, someone who will love him and smile upon him. But," Her voice grew sharp, "He is almost never like that to anyone else."

Standing in a dimly lit, cobweb-filled corridor, Erik stared in on Marie and Christine, his body completely numb. What the hell was Marie doing?

"No." Christine replied, her voice was like a razor. "No, my father promised me an Angel. And he has sent it to me."

Marie stood, "You will know soon enough that it is the truth, my dear. I suggest you learn quickly. Your blindness will only be a weapon he can use against you." She began to walk towards the door, then turned and looked at Christine, who was staring at the floor in silence. She left.

* * *

"What have you done?" Erik shouted at Marie, slamming his hands down on his desk.

"I told the girl the truth, Erik, we both know she'd find out sooner or later."

"Christine is a darling girl and is in no danger. I can't imagine why you'd think otherwise! I would never hurt the child!"

Marie's tone was calm and cool, but she spoke with a slight edge to her voice and she stared up at Erik with her ice-blue eyes, "That is just it, Erik, she is no child anymore."

Erik turned and shot her a cold, hate-filled look, "And what, Madame, are you implying?"

"I imply nothing, Erik. Only that you have a certain… fondness for the girl."

"I don't like that tone!" Erik exclaimed. "You know I'd never lay a hand on that sweet girl. I guard her from the world and its dangers!"

"There are no dangers for her Erik, just for you."

"Pardon me?"

Marie raised an eye, "You were not treated so kindly, I gather? Or have you forgotten? Christine is not like you Erik! She is pure, sweet, innocent. She is ignorant of anything bad from the world, and I care for her as well! I am there when you were not!"

Erik grimaced, "Kindly elaborate, Madame."

"Were you there to put her to sleep when she had nightmares? Wipe the tears from her eyes when she missed her father? Answer all those silly little questions children have? No! You taught her to _sing! _You were too afraid to step away from the shadows." Marie shook her head, "And now what Erik? Do you love the girl?"

Erik gritted his teeth, "I was always there for her! She told me things, confided in me. She trusted me. I was just a teenage boy, Madame. Do not forget that. I could not care for her even if I was able! I wouldn't know how!"

"You did not answer my question."

"And what would that be, Madame?"

Marie's voice was low, "Do you love her?"

Erik did not reply for a long time. He turned away from Marie so that his back was facing her.

She gasped, "You do!" She stood and came over to him, so that she faced him, "Don't you dare." She said angrily, "Don't you _dare _love that girl, Erik. Don't you see? You're wasting your time on fantasies. She's a child, almost ten years younger then you. If you dare to take advantage of that girl – "

"HOW DARE YOU!" Erik screamed, sending Marie jolting backward. "Christine is an Angel above me! How dare you accuse me of this! I would never…" His voice trailed off, and he sat down, covering his masked face with his hands.

Marie walked up behind him, gently laying her hand on his shoulder. "Erik… you cannot love this girl. Do you hear me? I will not see you break your own heart again. She is young and foolish. She is – "

"Beautiful…" Erik whispered. "Much too beautiful."

Marie took in a sharp breath, "That isn't what I meant…"

Erik mumbled something, but Marie could not hear. Then he spoke more clearly, his voice a whisper, "Why would you tell her?"

"To save you, Erik." Marie replied slowly, "To end these illusions and spare you the sorrow." The was a paused, "When did you start…?"

"Only around when she was fifteen," Erik said, looking up with a little smile, "Not before that, Madame, oh no. But one day… one day she was just…" His voice dropped so that is was hardly audible, "Beautiful."

* * *

"Angel?" Christine whispered into the darkness of her own dressing room. "Angel – are you there?... I need you…"

"Yes, Christine." Erik's voice came.

Christine smiled into the dark, "Madame Giry came to see me… she… she said the strangest things…"

"What kind of things?"

Christine looked down, "She said your name was Erik. And that… that you were the phantom of the opera."

Silence. Erik closed his eyes, hardly daring to breathe. His name upon her lips was so beautiful… if only it wasn't such a cursed name…

Christine spoke again, "I know it isn't true. It can't be true. You are my Angel, sent from my Father. You are kind and gentle, I know you could not be the Phantom." She waited for him to speak, but again there was only silence. "Because I… I believe that you'd never…"

"Christine."

"Yes, Angel?"

"Please, Christine. Do not call me that."

Christine frowned, "Please, I do not understand – "

"I am all Marie – Madame Giry – says I am."

Christine's vision went blurry, and she suddenly noticed she was crying. When she spoke, it didn't sound like her at all. Her voice was weak and cracked, "But… you can't be – "

"Please let me explain, Christine, my darling…"

And then her Angel sang. His voice so pure she couldn't help but feel calmed and relaxed at his voice – that lovely voice.

"_Flattering child, you shall know me…_

_See why in shadow I hide…_

_Look at your face in the mirror… I am there inside!"_

Christine looked to her mirror; a white mist had entered the room, swirling about. And then she saw him, appearing slowly in the mirror. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with eyes a smoky green and jet-black hair. And on the right side of his face there was a white half-mask. She could not help but stare at him, his voice was seductive, his eyes seemed to be staring into her soul. And her mind seemed to go blank staring into his eyes, those murky green eyes… As if hypnotized, Christine began walking toward him. And then she found herself singing to him.

"_Angel of music! Guide and Guardian!_

_Grant to me… your… glory…!_

_Angel of music! Hide no longer! Secret and strange… Angel…"_

"_I am your Angel of Music…. Come to me Angel of Music…"_

He held out his hand. Thoughts whirled in Christine's mind all at once, and she stared at his hand for a few moments. But then, hesitantly, she took his hand in hers.


	4. Yet the Soul Obeys

**A/N: **Well, I have to say: Thank you for the reviews! Keep them coming please :) I am really excited for this story. But, guys, please remember - this is a romance/tragedy. Do not be all surprised at the ending of this story (which may come reasonably soon because I plan on updating pretty readily) As you can probably tell from the title of this chapter, Chrisitne doesn't stay mad at Erik for too long :) Oh, and I picture all the characters as they are in the 2004 movie, except Meg, who I picture as Summer Strallen, who played her in the original 'Love Never Dies' cast. Well, this chapter doesn't end with much of a bang. Just a question :/ ah, well.

**DISCLAIMER: ** I do not own the song Christine sings in this chapter called 'The Heart is Slow to Learn', it belongs to Frank Wildhorn's 'Dracula, the Musical'. I just thought it works for this chapter :) I do not own any of the characters of 'Phatom of the Opera', except a few OC's which will come in later. But all the recognizable characters belong to Gaston Leroux. And a special shoutout to my sister Victoria (username on fanfiction is Kate Pendragon) and my cousin, Elle, for putting together the picture for this story with photoshop. Thanks! Find other of Victoria (and Elle's) creations on (her username is KatePendragon on there, as well).

* * *

**Eternally Yours**

**4. Yet the Soul Obeys**

Christine stared at the beautiful, glossy water. The lights danced and swirled about in the deep blue lake, reflecting and dancing. The sight was breathtaking. She could still feel her Angel's – Erik's hand in hers, although they had broken apart minutes before. She moved her gaze to him, though he stared directly forward, steering the boat toward his lair. Something about his presence, something in his eyes, his words… everything he did was like a mystery, and it fascinated her. She longed to hear him sing to her again, for it was the only time she felt… whole. Somehow, this man, whatever he was, he could make her feel special.

He could make her feel _beautiful. _

She had never felt beautiful, only self-conscious. Only nervous. But now, with him, she felt safe and secure, like she was enveloped in a quiet, kind darkness, guarded by her masked Angel.

Although at the same time her infatuations with him grew, something in her mind grew stronger. Thoughts beating against her mind, telling her to run, to never come back. That this man was dangerous – he was the Phantom of the Opera.

These warnings overwhelmed her, almost to the point where she would jump from the boat and go as fast as she could back to her dressing room. But all thoughts melted away as she heard a loud creaking noise, and saw a brass gate ascending. And soon the boat entered, the most dazzling place she had ever seen.

The whole room was lit only by candle. The floors made of stone; an organ was place against a wall, near a desk. Across the lake, there was a doorway, though there was no door. Only a black veil standing where a door should've, and the veil was pushed aside, revealing a bedroom with a swan shaped bed. Inside the bedroom, Christine could see a small table, different masks sitting on it. A full white mask, a second half mask, a black mask only circling around the eyes. But most frightening, Christine saw one blood red mask, black and purple feathers sticking from out of it. It was a full mask, and it was in the most horrifying expression. Christine looked away.

She felt the boat lurch, then stop. And she realized Erik had stepped out, and was tying the boat to a small post on one of the stone steps. Erik offered her his hand away, and this time she took it without hesitation, longing for his touch. She moved to her feet and stepped out of the boat. The floor was cold and a bit wet, but she didn't seem to notice.

Christine bit her lip, staring into Erik mesmerizing green eyes. She tried to look away, but she couldn't. Her hand was still in his, and heat shot up her arm. She could hardly breathe, just staring at him.

"Christine…" Erik said in his low, silky voice. Christine felt her breathing hitch as her name left his lips. Why did he enchant her so? Why was his touch almost too much to bear? He was only a man… a man who had deceived her. Christine stared down at the ground, and gasped a bit when Erik's hand went to her chin and tilted her head up, so she was looking at him. Even when they were staring into each others' eyes, he did not move his hand away. "Christine," His thumb moved around her cheeks, caressing her face, "I know what you must think of me… You must believe me, I had no intention of deceiving you."

"And what, then, were you doing?" Christine said, a flush of anger coursing through her, "You told me things, Erik. Promised me things." She tried not to show the desire bubbling inside her, though at the same time, she felt embarrassment and anger rush through her. She had believed him. She must have looked so foolish.

Erik's eyes were full of sorrow, "I never wanted to make you lose faith in me. Nothing I said to you was a lie. I taught you music, I was there to hold your hand when your Father died. Christine, it was all for you. It was always for you."

"You were – you are – the Phantom," Christine replied, her voice not sounding angry at all, no matter how hard she tried, "I was frightened of you ever since I came here. I've lived in fear of _you, _Erik."

Erik closed his eyes, "You were never in any danger of me."

"No, but all those around me were. How was I to know, Erik? How was I to know that the Phantom cared for me? That he guided me, and watched me." Christine challenged.

_That he loved you. _"Christine, I never hurt any at the Opera. I never – "

"You could have though. You have all the power to control the Opera, at you whim." Christine stepped back, out of his reach and feeling suddenly cold. "You still might," She looked up at him with hard eyes, "I don't know who you are. I do not know what you are capable of, what you want ."

_You. _"I want nothing more than to be your Angel, Christine," Erik closed his hand, just where Christine had been standing a moment ago. "That is all I have ever wanted."

Christine tucked a strand of her beautiful brown hair behind her ear, not meeting Erik's gaze, "Why?"

Erik felt a small smile grow on his lips, "Oh, Christine. You are the only person who has ever listened to me, ever cared about me. You were the only person I have seen smile at me – _for _me. You have trusted me, admired me, kept me locked deep in your heart for so many years. You've allowed me to guide you, allowed me to hold your hand. All I ever wanted my whole life was to have someone like you, someone to care about me." Erik was careful, so very careful, not to let the word love escape his lips. He had nearly said it so many times just in these last few minutes.

Christine felt a tear prick her eye, and it slowly cascaded down her cheek. Erik stepped forward, looking concerned. And ever so carefully, he wiped the tear away, noticing Christine did not back away. "Why are you crying?"

"I have just…" Christine closed her eyes, "I have never felt so…" She searched for words, "_wanted."_

Erik wanted right then to embrace her, to feel her body against his. But he hardly moved a muscle. "Oh, Christine, you are so wanted. I… all I ever needed is for someone like you to understand me, and you have given that to me all these years," His next words were spoken softly, "And if it should be over now… I will never forget these years, Christine. Never."

Christine's heart pounded wildly in her chest. She did not want it to be over. No, no, something in him bewitched her. He had unlocked a section in her heart, and had make a home there. "I… I will not… I will not leave you…" She stuttered helplessly.

Erik wanted to cry. She did not want to leave him! "Christine…" He said breathlessly… "sing."

"What?"

"_Sing."_

The command was simple, but Christine felt a loss for words, "I don't – what should I sing?"

Erik moved over to his organ, and began to play a melody that Christine recognized. It had been one of the many songs she had sung during her music lessons. She took in a quick breath.

"_Why do we risk all we have…?_

_Why give into the lure that calls everything forbidden…?_

_What attracts us… to the night…?_

_And captures us… however hard we fight…?_

_It seems, the heart is slow to learn… no one can tell it what to do…._

_It never learns from its mistakes, what twists and turns it puts… us through…"_

Erik's eyes closed, hearing Christine's angelic voice singing his music. He could feel her eyes on him, put her did not turn. He focused on playing the melody for her. For his Christine.

"_Oh yes, the heart is slow to learn… so every lesson is in vain…_

_It goes the way it wants to go…. Regardless of the pain…"_

Christie couldn't help but stare at Erik, watching him play the lovely tune for her. God, what had he done to her? She should hate him. She should run away from him – the Phantom of the Opera. And still, she stayed. Stayed because of the silent pull this man had on her.

"_And so, I foolishly go on… Ignoring all the signs... dismissing all the doubt inside me…_

_For the heart is slow to learn… no one can tell it what to do…_

_It never learns from its mistakes, that's why it finally breaks, and over…powers you…_

She watched him, wondering. What did he feel for her? Was it just a fatherly love her had for her? Or… was it more? Was he what she had been searching for all these years, but still missing? She closed her eyes.

"_Some passions… never let you go… _

_Some fires never cease to burn…_

_It shouldn't could as a surprise… _

_That the heart is slow… to learn…_

_The heart is slow to learn…_

_The heart is slow… to learn…"_

Christine closed her eyes, listening to the final notes of the song, her mind whirling. She took a step backward as Erik stood from the seat I front of the organ. "Th-that is a lovely song," Christine stuttered.

"Yes," Erik replied, his eyes casting up her. What did she see when she looked at him? Just a man? A monster? Erik tore his gaze away, thinking.

"Erik?" Christine's voice was small, and she took a deep breath.

"Yes?"

Christine almost didn't answer, her whole body going numb. But she looked up at him, her Angel, the Phantom. Erik. "Do you love me?"


	5. Unraveling

**A/N: **Well, here is my next chapter for 'Eternally Yours'. I am so excited about this story. I have a pretty good idea of where it'll go and everything. So it shouldn't be too long before the next update. This is a reasonably long chapter, it is about 6 1/2 pages. And THANK YOU to anybody who reviewed, added this to their favorites, or put this on their alert list. You guys are so much appreciated! A special thanks to:

**SaVrAiNoiR** for reviewing, favoriting, and putting me on our author alert!

**Phantom-of-the-Opera-Phan **for reviewing and (i think?) putting on alert

**Kate Pendragon **(my lovely sister) for being the first reviewer!

**helikesitheymikey **for all 3 of your kind reviews!

This chapter is called 'Unraveling' because it is the beginning of the unraveling of the plot. With Meg's subtle jealousy, the cute fluff scene with E/C in the beginning, and our hated Vicomte joining us for the first time. Sorry for the semi-cliffhanger (gahhh I can't help it!) I will try to update as soon as possible. Anywho, review and tell me your thoughts!

_{Rose Diamund}_

* * *

**Eternally Yours**

**5. Unraveling**

Erik couldn't do anything but stare at Christine – _his _Christine, looking up at him with her beautiful brown eyes shining with wonder. He could feel his breathing slow, and he tried to put into words all his thoughts, his wildest dreamings of his darling Christine. How he yearned for her touch, for her to hear his name upon her lips. How he longed to hold her body close to his, to sing to her, see her smile up at him – that bright, lovely smile. All he could say, breathlessly, was, "Yes."

Christine's eyes closed, and Erik could see her expression change instantly. Although, it was difficult to read her face. "Erik…" She whispered, her voice trailing off a bit. What could she say? Thoughts beat against her mind and she bit her lip, opening her eyes to meet Erik's. His enchanting, smoky green eyes. So filled with sorrow and emptiness; she could almost see into his beaten, battered soul. But still, she could feel his heartbeat in his music, his voice, when he sang to her. Just remembering his voice made her calm. Made her mind be washed of all regret, suddenly craving to hear him.

"Please," Erik put his finger to Christine's lips, and he felt her whole body tense as he made contact to her. "Please, Christine. Don't speak. I know…" He closed his eyes, "I know you can never love me. Christine, for so long I have longed for somebody – _anybody _– do see me like a man. Not an Angel, not a demon. And you," His fingers gently caressed Christine's cheek, her eyes fluttering shut, "_you _were the first person to see me as that. Just moments ago, when we were speaking. I was nothing but a man, Christine. A _man._"

Christine opened her eyes, "Why should anyone see you differently?"

Erik felt his heart stop beating. God, if only she knew. If only she had seen the horror behind the mask… of his cursed life, his black, cold heart. How he hated the world and everything in it… except… "You are such a beautiful creature. Delicate, like a flower. You have a heart, a soul, a _life." _He spat the last word bitterly. "And I, only a monster. Too afraid to step from the shadows. Too afraid."

"Afraid? Afraid of what?" Christine asked, her cheeks still tingling with warmth from where Erik's fingers had been. And she felt herself blush.

"The world, my dear. It is cruel and cold and mean where I've been. It in unforgiving, unloving. But you," Erik felt like he would double over, wracked with sobs. But he took a few deeps breaths, "have been my salvation. You have been the light in my unending, unhappy darkness."

Christine's eyebrows furrowed with sorrow and concern, she took a sharp step forward and took Erik's hand in hers, "You have been robbed of kindness. You have been showed only the evils of this world. But still you are a good man, Erik. I see it in your eyes. In your music. You have made the shattered part of my soul whole again, Erik – _in your music_." Her heart was beating fast now, and she could feel a tear roll down her cheek, "you have been my Angel, Erik. I… I cannot love you now… but, Erik, I need you now. You… are my Angel."

Erik looked down, "You… must go now."

"Yes," Christine said softly, "I have rehearsal for my performance tomorrow night. I suppose I have you to thank for that."

"No," Erik whispered, "It was all you."

* * *

"_Of me!"_

Christine finished the song with her loud, beautifully operatic voice. She was standing on the stage in costume during rehearsals, singing the song, but think only over Erik. She hardly heard the wave of applause that came for her after the final note ended. Her mind was whirling. Did she love him? _Could _she? Still… when he touched her, didn't she feel a warm sensation? Didn't he make her heart beat faster, make her crave his touch, his voice, his words?

But then, he was the Phantom. He was the man she had lived in fear of for ten years. He had terrorized the Opera, he home. He had deceived her.

Christine stepped back off the stage, and ran down the hall, ignoring Marie Giry calling her name behind her to come back. She didn't stop running until she reached the chapel. She needed to think all of this through.

* * *

Meg Giry watched Christine run off stage. She heard her mother calling, "Christine! Come back! You are not done rehearsing! Christine!" But she didn't move a muscle. The only thought that kept recurring in her mind was: _she saw him. _

She had watched them. Heard how he spoke to her. Heard how he gave her praise and love.

He never said those things to her.

She knew Erik. She had known Erik since she was a child. Her mother had told her all about how he was the Phantom, but how she would be protected because Erik was indebted to Marie. She never knew why. But what she _hadn't _known was that Erik had pretended to be the Angel of Music that Christine had always said her father would send to her.

She snapped back to reality when Marie snapped at the people standing onstage, "Rehearsals are over. Go back to your dressing rooms."  
Meg moved quickly, not going towards the chorus girls' room, but Christine dressing room. She opened the door a slipped in, knowing Christine wouldn't be there. She went over to the mirror and slid it open, and then began making her way down the cobweb-filled, dim corridor, then down the windy steps, and finally to the lake.

Soon, she reached the brass gates, and stepped out of the boat into the knee-high, frigid, murky water. She looked through the gate and looked around the lair, not seeing Erik. But she heard his music box, the one he loved so dearly. She called out, her voice gentle, "Erik?"

The music stopped instantly. And she heard shuffling about from a place she could quite see from where she stood; and then she saw him. His hair jet-black and combed back, his eyes bright, contrasting against his clean, bright, white half-mask that was placed on the right side of his face. "Meg…" Erik said, almost as if he didn't believe she was there. "What are you doing here?"

Meg smiled sweetly, "I came to see a friend."

Erik nodded shortly, and he pulled the metal lever, sending the gate to its squeaky ascent. Meg stepped in, still shivering a bit from the water. And she realized she was still in the short, tight costume she had for rehearsals. She looked around the lair. She had memorized every inch of it, and now she stood, soaking in its beauty. "I haven't been here in so long."

Erik replied, "A good many months."

Meg's voice changed a bit, in a way Erik could not quite recognize, "I have missed seeing you, Erik."

"And I you, Meg."

Meg could not help but smile, "And have you been working on your Opera? _'Don Juan Triumphant'?" _

Erik snorted, "Hardly. I cannot seem to write a song for Don Juan to sing to one another."

"Perhaps I could assist?" Meg offered.

Erik only shrugged, gesturing for Meg to come to his organ, where all his works and pieces were stacked. He handed her one piece, "I have written all the music, you see. But lyrics… I cannot seem to find the right words for Don Juan to say to her. Nor can I figure a title for it."

Meg studied the piece for a moment, "This is wonderful."

"If only I could finish it," Erik retorted.

"Call it…" Meg paused, "_The Point of No Return."_

Erik looked at her sideways, "How did – "

"_You have come here… in pursuit of your deepest urge… in pursuit…" _Meg bit her lip, thinking for a moment, _"of that wish, which 'till now… has been silent… silent…"_

She handed the paper back to Erik, and he stared at her in amazement, "Meg… that is wonderful. I…"

"Your welcome," Meg said in a small voice.

Erik put the paper on his desk, and began to write. After a few long, silent moments, he looked up at Meg, grinning. And he began to sing what he had written. _"I have brought you… that our passions may fuse and merge…_

_In your mind, you've already succumbed to me… dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me…_

_Now you are here with me, no second thoughts… you've decided… decided…"_

Meg grinned, "It's perfect, Erik!" She thought, and then gestured for Erik to move over, and began to jot a few words down, singing as she did: _"past… the point of no return… no backwards glances… Our games of make belief are at an end…"_

Meg closed her eyes, and stopped singing. Though the song played in her mind, over and over again. And she saw Erik holding her body close to his, his arms around her. Caressing her, loving her… She opened her eyes and she heard the sound of Erik's pen scratching on the parchment. And her heart broke in two. He was smiling; he didn't know how she felt. How she _needed _him. Yearned for him. For years now she had felt this. Her heart quickened when he looked up at her and said, "Thank you, Meg. It's so wonderful to know I have a friend such as you."  
Meg forced a smile, but when he turned back to the paper, she felt a tear cascade down the side of her face. A friend. Damn it, why didn't he see her?! Why was Christine so perfect? So beautiful, so talented. Just so damned perfect!

Erik grinned down at the paper. He smiled contently, at his almost finished aria. And especially, at having a friend. He had seen little Meg Giry grow up from just a child. At first, he never much liked the girl. But now she was kind and sweet, and made him feel safe. She was a friend. He almost laughed as he thought the words. _A friend!_

Meg wiped the tears from her eyes violently, though they kept coming as she realized one thing: Christine _was_ his Amnita. She was whom he wrote about now. He _loved _her. She stood quickly, pushing the stool she sat on away as if it had been a snake. Erik looked up at Meg questioningly, and she said, "Mother will be waiting for me. I must go."

Erik nodded, "Very well. Thank you, Meg."

Meg gave him a short smile, "I will come back soon."

* * *

_**Hours Later**_

_**(in Christine's dressing room)**_

Christine heard a soft knocking on her door. She stood from the stool she sat on in front of the mirror, where she had been watching her reflection. She was still dressed in costume, from the extravagant diamond earrings hanging from her lobes to the pure white shoes on her feet. She felt her hair shift its weight and swish loosely from side to side as she walked. She pulled open the door, to see a man staring back at her, grinning.

She looked at him for a moment. His clear, bright blue eyes; shoulder-length light brown hair. He was only a feet inches taller than Christine, not towering over her like Erik had been. "Yes?" She asked, but even as she did so she instantly recognized the man, and she felt a smile spring to her lips, "Raoul!"

The man grinned, "I was hoping you would remember! Christine, how many years has it been?"

"At least ten," Christine agreed, embracing Raoul quickly and then moving aside, gesturing for him to enter the dressing room.

He stepped in, "I heard you singing from my own room, just near the stage when I arrived. I was simply astounded, Christine. You always were so talented." He turned to her and smiled, sitting down on a chaise.

Christine sat across from him, her eyes briefly wandering to the mirror. She wondered if Erik was watching… "Yes," She turned back to him, "I was extremely lucky, I really owe it all to" _Erik _"Madame Giry. She is the one who told the new managers I was an option."

"Yes, I met Marie Giry briefly, and she spoke very highly of you. I understand it that you've been taking voice lessons?" Raoul inquired.

Christine's whole body tensed, "Y-yes I have." She said shortly, stuttering.

Raoul looked at her expectantly for a moment, but when she said nothing more, he asked, "And who has been teaching you?"

"I… His name is – "

"Never mind that, Christine. I did not come to see you to speak of you're voice lessons." Raoul interrupted. Christine felt a wave of relief wash over her and she nodded, a faint smile on her lips. "I wanted to see you, to remember the old memories, and perhaps to create new ones." Raoul said slowly, "I have missed you Christine. It has been far too long."

Christine nodded, "Raoul, if you will forgive me, why are you here? What business brings you to the Opera?"

"I am the new Patron. The Vicomte DeChagney." Raoul said, smiling.

"That is wonderful! So you shall be staying here?"

"For the present."

Christine smiled, looking up at the man she once new. Her childhood sweetheart. Perhaps…

"I just wanted to see you, Christine. You could not imagine how surprised I was to find that you were at the Opera, and I could not wait until morning to speak with you." Raoul said, taking Christine's hand in his. "It has been far too long."

Christine could not help but smile. Raoul still made her feel secure, as he had all those years ago. And now he was here, a Patron of the Opera. He had come to see her!

"Christine, after you're performance tomorrow, I would like to take you out for supper."

"I'd like that, Raoul," She replied softly.

He smiled, "Wonderful. Forgive me, if you were about to go to bed – "

"Oh, no. I wasn't."

A smile of satisfaction came to Raoul, "Good."

Raoul pulled Christine into another embrace, but this time it lasted much longer, and she closed her eyes.

Erik watched them from the other side of the mirror, seeing the content look on Christine's face as she embraced this man. The Vicomte DeChagney. He could do nothing but stare, his eyes burning.


	6. Breathless

**A/N: **And here is chapter 6! This story has me really excited! I plan on updating soon. This is actually my most popular story this month! There is a major cliffhanger at the end, and I will be updating as soon as possible, which will be within the next few days, perhaps even tonight if I am motivated enough - so please to not complain about this. In this chapter, we begin to get a sense of Meg's insane-ness. Please review and tell me what you think! Critiques are always welcome.

**Disclaimer: **The song Meg sings belong the Andrew Lloyd Webber, from his newest musical 'Love Never Dies'. And also the song that Erik sings called 'Music of the Night' is from Andrew Lloyd Webber's 'Phantom of the Opera' - neither of which I own.

_{Rose Diamund}_

* * *

**Eternally Yours**

**6. Breathless**

It was early morning. A pale pink colored the sky, tinted with the sun's bland yellow rays. The half moon was still barely visible. Raoul lay in his bed on his back, staring up at the white marble ceiling. He thought of Christine, smiling. She was beautiful, with her tumbling dark brown curls. And shimmering, beautiful brown eyes. Her willowy, slender figure and her angelic voice. And she was still only a girl of seventeen.

When he had seen her yesterday, the youthful gleam in her eyes, the pureness of her smile… he had realized in that moment that his feelings hadn't changed for her since they were children. No, they hadn't changed. In fact, they'd grown. Perhaps a bit too strong, since he had only seen her once. But still, she enchanted him, with her youthful zeal and beauty. He was only four years her elder, a respectable age difference. Raoul's smile broadened, thinking of having Christine for his bride. She was a pretty little thing, so innocent. So pure. So ignorant of all the horrors and shadows of the world.

But… perhaps _too _pure. Too innocent. Much too easy to bewitch.

To pushed his doubts away. Christine was his old sweetheart - his future wife.

* * *

Meg awoke with a start. She knew it was early morning just by looking out the window. She sat up and yawned tiredly, looking about at all the sleeping chorus girls around her. She slipped quietly out of bed and quickly got dressed into a little white dress and her white ballet shoes, tying her hair back with a pale blue bow.

She walked slowly toward the door, and pulled it open just enough for her to slip out. She glanced back behind her just before she shut the door to be sure none of the girls had been woken. And then she headed down the hallways, her shoes only making a light brushing sound on the corridor's wooden floor.

Soon, she reached the front doors of the Opera, and just after peering behind her to be sure the coast was clear, Meg opened the door and exited the large white stone building, making her way down the streets of Paris.

At this time, the streets were mostly deserted. Only in the distant could you hear the faint sound of the carriage wheels on the pavement, or quietly echoing footsteps. Meg made her way to a lake. The lake was not too big, but certainly not small. The deep turquoise water shone dimly in the growing sunlight, waves gently lolling about.

Meg slipped off her shoes and pulled her dress over her head. Now all she wore was her underskirt and bodice. She let her hair loose, and set the bow on her neatly folded clothes. She stared out over the lake, her own quiet, serene lake, which she had gone to almost every morning for years now.

She took a small step into the water, instantly shuddering with cold, as the water wrapped around her ankles, soaking her in. Another step, then another until she was waist deep, the frigid water greeting her welcomingly. The feel of the cool water against her skin felt good, and Meg took in a deep, long breath before submerging herself under the water, feeling her hair loose its weight and float in the water, some blonde strands sticking her neck.

She stayed under for a few moments, before feeling her lungs begin to burn, screaming for air. She came up, the crisp, cold morning air breaking the lovely silence. She took a gasping breath, feeling as if her ears would freeze off. Winter was coming quickly, and soon the whole lake would be frozen over.

Meg rolled onto her back, her face just above the water, but her ears submerged so she couldn't hear anything. She closed her eyes, simply floating, allowing all the pain and hurt to wash away in the cold, fresh water.

And then she began to sing. A slow, frightening song. Her eyes were open and they seemed hollow as she sang, but she kept her ears beneath the water, hearing only her muffled voice.

"_This town is coarse and cold and mean_

_It's hard to keep your conscience clean_

_Faceless in the crowd… Anything's allowed…_

_And so, I come at dawn each day… Come to wash it all away…_

_Sink into the sea, blue and cool and kind…_

_Let it set me free… Let the past unwind…_

_Leave… the… hurt… behind…"_

Her eyes seemed almost lifeless, and you could see no soul within them. Her mind was blank. And she sang again.

"_The world is hard, the world is mean_

_It's hard to keep your conscience clean…_

_The sea is came, the sea is grey_

_It washes everything… away…_

_Sink into the deep… Blue and cool and kind…_

_Then drift off to sleep…_

_Let the past unwind… _

_Leave… the… hurt… be… hind…"_

Meg only stared at the sky, occasionally paddling her arms a bit to get herself moving. Soon, she felt her lips turning blue and she began to swim back to shore. When she got there, she took of all her clothes, and squeezed out the water until it was partially dry. She put her clothes back on, and began to walk back to the Opera.

* * *

Christine awoke to a man's voice. It was Erik's voice. He was singing.

"_I am your Angel of Music… come to me Angel of music…"_

"Erik?" She whispered, glancing around the room. "Erik, is that you?"

"_I am your Angel of music… come to me Angel of Music…"_

Her eyes darted around the room, and finally came to rest on the mirror. She held her gaze there, "Erik? Erik, where are you?"

And he was there. Standing in the mirror, looking almost exactly as he had the day before. His hand was extended, and he held it out, waiting for her to take it. Immediately, Christine slipped out of bed and began to make her way to the mirror. She took Erik's hand.

"Erik – "

Erik put his finger to his lips, silencing her. And then they began to go down into his lair. Christine could do nothing but watch him. He still fascinated her, in every move he made. This man… he had such a power over her. She could not understand it. Her only instinct was to obey it. He had protected her, guided her. Loved her. She could not resist him. How he mystified her. His voice, his music. Everything about him was bewitching. His eyes. Those deep, murky green eyes. How she longed to see a soul beneath their pain. How she yearned to find something in him. What it was – she had yet to find out. But _something… _She was searching for something in him. A part of him she knew was missing.

And even as she watched him, a part of her wanted to run. Wanted to hide from him, and all he was. She hardly knew him! She did not know what he was capable of, what he was thinking. And yet…

She could connect to him, in a way she had never felt with anybody else. They shared a passion, a fire, somewhere deep inside them. He was lodged somewhere deep in her heart, somewhere secret. Her mind beat against him, screaming for her to run. And she knew she would be wise to listen. But perhaps, she wasn't wise. Or perhaps it was just the power this man had over. This consuming passion. Whatever it was, she stayed with him, his hand in hers, walking down in silence to his lair.

Finally, they reached the lair. She stepped onto the stone floor, the slight dampness soaking through her cloth ballet shoes. But she didn't care. Not now.

Erik just watched her for the longest time, his eyes seeming to see straight through her, into her head, her heart. Looking deep within her soul. He seemed to be searching for something in her face, something… perhaps just as she was searching for something in him.

And then, he began to sing. His voice that of a true Angel, as she had always called him. She felt her eyes almost immediately flutter shut at the calming sound of his voice.

"_Nighttime sharpens… Heightens each sensation…_

_Darkness stirs… and wakes imagination…_

_Silently the senses… abandon their defenses…"_

He moved around her, mocking her silently. Daring her to move, to breathe.

"_Slowly, gently… night unfurls its splendor_

_Grasp it, sense it… tremulous and tender…_

_Turn your thought away, from the garish light of day… Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light…_

_And listen to the music of the night…"_

Erik watched Christine intently, her eyes closed lightly. God, she was so beautiful. He sang to her, knowing how it enchanted her. Wanting desperation to take her in his arms.

"_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams,_

_Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before…_

_Close you eyes, let your spirit start… to soar…_

_And you'll live… as you've never lived… before…_

_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you…_

_Hear it, feel it… secretly possess you…_

_Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind… in this darkness, which you know… you cannot fight… The darkness of the music of the night…"_

Her eyes opened as he took her hand and led her up the few steps, just past his organ, surrounded by all the beautiful burning candles.

"_Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world…_

_Leave all thoughts of the life you new before…_

_Let your soul… take you where you long… to be!"_

He stepped toward her, his gloved fingertips brushing against either of her cheeks, as he caressed her face gently.

"_Only then… can you belong… to me…"_

He turned her slowly, until her back was against his chest. And slowly, tenderly he ran his hand across her torso, downwards… running gently over her thigh.

"_Floating… falling… sweet intoxication…"_

His hand slightly brushed in between her thighs, and he heard Christine gasp and her eyes popped open. He hissed in her ear:

"_Touch me… trust me… Savor each sensation…"_

He felt her relax a bit, her eyes closing again. He pulled away from her, leaving her with the pleasurable sting of his warmth.

"_Let the dream begin! Let your darker side give in! _

_To the power of the music… that I write… The power of the music of the night…"_

His voice softened, and he looked at her with gentle eyes. Almost… pleading…

"_You alone, can make my song… take flight…_

_Help me make… The music of the…_

…_Night…"_

Christine just stared at him, his gentle, low voice still ringing through her ears. She felt serenity set in, and a peaceful quietness followed.

* * *

Meg sprinted whole-heartedly down the windy, cold stone stairs. Soon finding the boat and then rowing as quickly as she could to the lair. Her thoughts were all on Erik. She needed to see him.

No.

She needed him.

She mind raced, as she thought of what she would say to him. He had been the man she had loved for so many years. Someone to smile at her, and make her feel beautiful… Unlike all the other men…

She was just about to run into the lair when she realized the gate was open. Then she saw her. Christine. With Erik. He was holding her, caressing her hips. Singing to her. It was in the moment, Meg's heart tore to shreds. Watching them together.

When he had finished singing, the two stared at one another for a long time. Meg had hidden herself on the stone wall, just beside the gate. She peered in on them, trying to hide herself in the shadows; to not be seen.

"Christine…" Erik said, his eyes darting across her face. God, why did she stare at him like that? Like she could see deep inside him… "Christine. I can't… I needed…" God Almighty! What was happening to him? He had never felt so flustered, staring into her eyes. So beautiful, so pure. But much too beautiful. Not fitting for a beast as himself. A monster, condemned to the shadows forever. Not worthy of such an Angel. He took a deep breath, "I love you."

"I… I know…" Christine stuttered. "And I –" She stopped short, not allowing those three words to escape her lips. But why not? She found herself asking. Why couldn't she love him in return? No. She realized. There was too much unturned. _Too much I don't know. _He was keeping something from her… And suddenly, her focus was on his mask. What had he been hiding from? Why was he hidden in the shadows?

_Why? _

She advanced toward him slowly, breathing slowly. _Who was that man in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask? _

And then, curiosity overpowered her. Questions filled her mind. Questions she would have answered. _Now. _And in one breathless moment, Christine lifted her hands to Erik's face, digging her fingers beneath the edges of his mask – and she ripped the mask from his face.


	7. The Empty Mirror

**A/N: **Sorry for the short, sad chapter. I will make a longer one next time I promise. I sort of felt like this chapter was a turning point into future drama... Anyways I hope you guys realize this is an ERIK/CHRISTINE story... I've gotten a couple PMs telling me how it "should be Meg". That's not how I planned it, sorry. You're actually supposed to dislike Meg in this story. Right now I suppose you feel sorry for her, but I assure you it will not be like that later. LND Meg isn't exactly lovable. Anywho, please review!

And a huge thanks to my lovely new beta **nibblesfan. **Thanks so much! Please go read her stuff, guys. She's an awesome writer :)

Did I mention? REVIEW.

_{Rose Diamund}_

* * *

**Eternally Yours**

**7. The Empty Mirror**

It was hideous. The right side of his face was completely scarred a disgusting red. It was pitted on the topside of his forehead, making it look as though bumps were along his face. His skin was marred, like it had been burned many times; as if his flesh had been turned inside out. Dried blood caked his face, and his right eye was a bit more closed then the left, with a deep pit around the eye and his cheekbone. Slashes were across his face, and there were a few long white scars. Along the top of his forehead, there was one single vein that seemed to pop out of his skin, blue and pulsing. At the mask being ripped off his face, his teeth were barred in the most frightening grimace Christine had ever seen.

Her mouth opened, but no words escaped. Instead, her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fell to the damp stone floor with a thump.

Tears rolled down Erik's cheeks, and he let out a cry of anguish, crumbling to the ground himself, sobbing. He wiped the tears from his eyes violently, and took Christine in his arms. He went to his swan shaped bed, and gently set her down. His hands slid around Christine's face, his tears falling onto her face and into her hair.

Meg could only stare, her body pressed against the wall. She couldn't take her eyes from Erik's face. A horrified look was plastered to her face, but she remained completely still, just staring. She could feel her chest rising and falling as she breathed hard.

Meg turned on her heels and ran as fast as she could, running from the lair, from Erik, the image of his face now burned in her mind. She ran through the mirror into Christine's dressing room, falling on to the chaise in a heap of sobs. Her whole body shook and she covered her face with her arms.

Down in the lair, Erik stood from the bed, swallowing his sobs. Tears rolled slowly down his cheeks and he stared at his beautiful Christine, her eyes closed lightly and her breathing even. Now she was hidden from his monstrosity, unable to see him. Even she, the first person to have ever seen him as a man, had recoiled in disgust at his hideousness.

Erik went over and picked up his mask from the floor, and put it back on his face, capturing a few of his tears. He picked up a candlestick from his desk, and went over towards his many mirrors. He took one last glance over at Christine, singing softly to her, his tears flowing down relentlessly

"_You alone… can make my song take flight…_

_It's over now, the music of the night!"_

He looked at his reflection briefly, wincing a bit at his monstrous distortion. He cried out wretchedly, and brought the candlestick back, smashing the mirror with all his might. Then the next mirror, then the next. Until finally he reached the last mirror, covered by a red velvet cloth. He ripped the cloth away, revealing one last mirror.

He clenched his fists around the candlestick, until his knuckles turned white. He smashed this last mirror with so much force, a few shards of the mirror stuck into his wrists, soaking the sleeves of his shirt crimson with blood almost immediately. The pain was unbearable, but Erik didn't care. He let the candlestick fall from his hand, taking one last look at Christine. He ripped the mask from his face, and threw it behind him, not caring where it landed.

Where the mirror had been now revealed a long, dark corridor. Erik pulled the cloth closed behind him as he entered.

* * *

Meg looked for Christine through the buzzing crowd of chorus girls. Where was she? Her performance was in not two hours! Meg silently cursed Christine in her mind. Not just for being late, oh no, Meg had seen what Christine had done to Erik. What grief Christine's foolishness had brought upon them all. And now she was probably weeping, as though she cared for her "Angel" of Music. But Christine didn't understand anything of Erik. She didn't know him like Meg did.

For so long, Meg had wondered the same thing that Christine had. What hid behind the mask? But whenever she had questioned him of it as a child, he had always grown cold and angry. So Meg knew better then to rip it off.

Why did Christine have to be so damned curios? She'd ruined everything. Erik would not see anyone now. Perhaps she'd never see him again; Meg bit her lip at the thought – her trick to hold back tears.

She saw Erik's distortion once again in her mind. So grotesque, so abhorrent, but still… he was Erik. He was still the man she had loved for so long, the man she yearned for so long. Meg had always dreamed that Erik would one day reveal his true face to Meg. She had fantasied it over and over again, but now Christine had ruined it.

She had bewitched Erik, entranced him with all her talent and beauty. He worshiped her, and she had let him fall. He had been forced to tears – no, not only tears. He had sobbed, for his darling Christine could not accept him as he was.

But Meg could.

But he would never see that, would he? She realized with a tear in her eye. He'd never see her as more than Marie Giry's daughter. Someone who could write lyrics. Someone to listen. But he'd never see her as the woman who could bring him bliss. Who could love him. Who could see beyond the darkness, the mask, the hate. Who could look deep inside his soul and love him. Really love him.

But he'd never know. He loved Christine. He'd never understand what she would do for him to love her.

What she had done for him to love her.

But she daren't speak of it. She couldn't. It was bottled up inside her hollow soul. A shameful secret locked inside her mind, beating relentlessly for release. But she kept it locked. She allowed it to swallow her senses, to force her to cry every night. Because it was for Erik. It was all for Erik.

It was only for him.

* * *

Christine woke with a start, her head throbbing. Her vision was blurred by tears, she realized. Had she been crying? She wiped the tears from her eyes, and her vision began to focus. That was when she realized. She was in the lair.

Christine gasped, and leaped out of bed, letting out a small cry of pain. God, her head hurt. Had she fallen? Oh, yes. She remembered. She… she must have fainted.

But then she remembered _everything. _

"Oh, God," She said, closing her eyes and feeling tears run down her face freely. She did not bother to wipe them away now. "Erik," She said breathlessly, seeing his face clear in her mind. "Erik!" She called, running from the bedchamber and searching around the lair.

That was when she saw it.

All the mirrors, shattered. A red cloth hung in front of one of the mirrors, and slowly, she pulled it from the mirror. It, too, had been smashed in. Only it revealed a dark corridor, leading God only knew where.

Tears rushed further down her face, and her breathing quickened, her heart pounding in her chest like a hammer. She saw among the shards of broken mirror a dropped candlestick and… Erik's mask. "Oh my God," She said, covered her mouth with her hands, and sobbing harder. And on the ground near the mask… a liquid… was that? _Oh God _– blood.

Erik's blood.

"Erik," She said between sobs, crumbling to the ground. She pushed herself up, and allowed the glass to stick into the palms of her hands. "Oh, Erik…" She cried, "Erik! What have I done?"

But it was too late. Erik was gone.

* * *

**There you have it. And the drama begins to unfold or whatever. Please review! And I will try to update as soon as I can!**

**_{Rose Diamund}_  
**


	8. Confrontations

**A/N:** I am sorry for the wait! I didn't know how to write this chapter... and I'm afraid it moved terribly quickly :/ but it definitely set the stage. I hope you tell me what you thought :) And thanks to my beta **nibblesfan **for all her help!

_{Rose Diamund}_

* * *

**Eternally Yours**

**8. Confrontations**

Meg watched her, hatred glittering in her bright blue eyes. Christine stood onstage, wearing that beautiful white costume and singing her song, the sweetness of her voice filling the large room, and echoing again and again in Meg's mind. Christine looked so beautiful, the elegant diamond earrings shaking ever so slightly as she sang. Her hair was done expertly, in a sort of loose braid, and her hair tumbled down her back in one piece.

Even after the song had finished, and the wave of applause came, Meg could hear Christine's singing, vibrating through her mind. Mocking her. Meg's eyes burned as she saw Christine curtsy, bouquets of flowers being tossed up onto the stage. She bit her lip, as to not show her grimace.

Her mother, Marie, put her hand on Meg's shoulder, beaming, "Wasn't that just lovely? Christine has learned so much. She came here a as chorus girl, and now look at her - look at how they adore her."

"It's wonderful." Meg said through gritted teeth, mustering a smile. Christine did not deserve such praise. She did not deserve her beauty, her talent. She deserved to be condemned to suffer the way Meg suffered - the way Erik suffered. But no. She was standing in the spotlight, being cheered on and smiling.

_Smiling!_

Christine turned and went offstage, though the applause continued even after her departure. When she was out of sight, her smile vanished, and she forced back tears. She couldn't have been here tonight if it weren't for Erik - her Angel. And how had she repaid him?

Christine rushed past all the smiling stage workers and ran straight to the chapel, down the wooden steps. She reached the bottom of the steps, and collapsed just before her father's painting in a heap of sobs. She could hardly breathe, and her whole body shook violently.

She sucked in a breath, gasping, and sat up, wiping tears from her eyes. She stared into the eyes of her father, and he stared back, unblinking. "C-can you f-forgive me?" She cried, her words only barely choking out between sobs, "I-I-I have betrayed you, betrayed my A-Angel..."

"Christine?" The sweet voice of Meg echoed through the chapel.

Christine wiped tears from her eyes, and closed her eyes, finally beginning to breathe evenly.

Meg appeared in the doorway. She smiled sweetly, "You were simply lovely tonight - Christine? What's wrong?" Meg sat next to Christine, plastering a concerned look to her face.

Christine shook her head, "N-nothing. I am fine."

"Then why are you crying?" Meg put her hand on Christine's shoulder, although inside she wanted to recoil in disgust at the sight. How dare Christine cry over Erik? How dare she act as though she regretted what she had done?

"I... oh, Meg. I've made a terrible mistake. I-I don't think... I can ever forgive myself."

_Good _"Oh, dear. Christine, what's happened?"

Christine closed her eyes, blocking a few tears from falling down her cheeks. "I… There is this – "

"Erik." Meg said, her voice suddenly going cold. Why should she have to pretend? Wasn't it best Christine knew everything?

Christine looked up at Meg, wide-eyed, "You mean, you – "

"Yes, Christine. I know all about Erik – I've known the man since I was a child!" Meg exclaimed. She focused her gaze back on Christine, "And you destroyed him, Christine. I saw what you did."

Christine could hardly speak. Why hadn't Meg said something? All these years? "I… You have to believe me… I didn't – "

"Do I?" Meg challenged, her eyes burning. "Erik is a good man. He never deserved the hatred he received. But you do. Do you have any idea how much grief you've caused? Erik's gone, Christine! He's disappeared!"

This only made Christine cry harder, "I'm sorry." She whispered. It was all she could say. All she could think.

"You never deserved to have him as your 'Angel of Music'." Meg snarled. "You haven't any idea who he is, do you? You don't know _anything _of what people with ignorance like yours have done to him."

Christine's mind was whirling. "Meg…"

"Save your breath," Meg snarled.

Anger overtook Christine, "You have no right to say these things! Where were you for Erik? Why do you think he has never mentioned you, Meg? Why do you think that is?!"

Meg grimaced, "You are more ignorant than I believed. You know nothing of what I've done for Erik. All that I've put on the line for him," It almost seemed that she was not speaking to Christine now. Her eyes were turned downward to the ground, and now they were blank, soulless, almost lifeless. "All that I've sacrificed for him…"

Christine stared at Meg in wonder with her tear-stained eyes, slowly, hesitantly, rested her hand upon Meg's shoulder, "Meg, please…"

Meg jerked away, anger flaming in her eyes, "Don't dare to touch me," she seethed, pivoting on her heels and running from the chapel, leaving Christine to her tortured silence and tears.

* * *

Erik watched Christine from above her in the chapel, staring down at her with burning eyes. The sight of her made his skin crawl, as she wept tears for him, begging his forgiveness. But all forgiveness had been taken from him, the moment that she had taken the mask from his face. The moment she betrayed him.

But the she spoke, her voice a tormented and terrified whisper, "Angel? Angel, is that you? Are you there?"

_Damn. _Erik cursed himself; he must have made a sound. He hardly dared to take a breath as he stared down at Christine's face.

"Angel, please, I know you are there." Christine looked about the room frantically, searching for any sign of her Angel. _"Erik. _Please." All she needed was to hear his voice, meet his eyes. Just to set eyes upon him, was all she craved.

Erik's heart almost stopped beating, and his eyes closed in spite of himself. Hearing his name pass her lips, like a whisper. He knew he would never escape from her, in that moment. He was her Angel… Erik's eyes snapped open.

No.

"Your _Angel _is dead," he spoke spitefully, his voice edged with pain. A haunting grin came upon his face, and his eyes glittered with malice, "but the Phantom is very much alive."

* * *

It was the following evening. All the preparations for the performance were ready, and the stage workers buzzed about, getting ready for the performance which would begin shortly. Christine stared at her tear-stained face in the mirror, splashing some cold water into her eyes. She closed her eyes and took many deep breaths, feeling sobs catch in her throat.

After a moment, she exited the privy chamber and ran directly into Raoul. She gave a small smile, "Forgive me, Raoul. I did not see you."

"That is perfectly all right, Christine," Raoul's expression changed, he looked concerned, "My dear, have you been crying?"

Christine shook her head in objection, "No, I am just nervous."

"You needn't be," Raoul smiled warmly, "You were wonderful last night. And you shall be tonight as well."

"Carlotta has returned," Christine corrected him, "She shall have the solo this evening. I will merely be in the chorus."

"That is an outrage," Raoul frowned, "Carlotta is not able to sing half as well as you."

Christine tried to finish the conversation, "She is the Prima Donna. If you will please excuse me, I must get onto stage soon. The performance will start in a few moments."

Raoul stepped out of her way, "Of course. Good luck tonight."

"Thank you," Christine said breathlessly as she passed him and walked toward the backstage. The chorus girls were hurriedly gathering onstage, just as the overture began, and the curtain separated. Christine saw out of the corner of her eye that Meg looked at her, and when she turned her head, Meg gave her one reproachful glance before turning toward the audience.

* * *

The chorus girls began dancing, gliding across the floors. Christine tried to keep her focus upon the dance, but her thoughts kept turning to Erik. His words rang clearly in her mind: _the Phantom is very much alive. _

What did that mean? What would he do? What was Erik truly capable of? Christine tried to shake the thoughts away, turning her focus back to the audience.

The music sped up, and grew louder and louder by the moment, infiltrating Christine ears and ringing in her mind, echoing again and again. The haunting music played on, and Christine spun around with the rest of the chorus girl, the melody beating against her ears with so much force she felt as though she would faint. Her heart began to pound; something was wrong. Something…

Christine glanced upward for a moment, just a moment, and then she saw it – what it was, she knew not until moments later. Something above them, was moving. A black, hooded figure moved across the upper stage level like a snake in the grass, smoothly without being seen. But Christine saw. Christine saw all too clearly.

Before she even had the chance to cry out, something fell down from the ceiling. Christine felt a scream escape her throat, but her vision blurred and blotted. Then she saw. It was the stagehand, Joseph Boquet. Hanging from a large, long rope. His lifeless body hung just above stage, in clear view of everybody.

Screams and cries filled the large room, but all Christine could do was stare at the hanging man.

Then, a voice came from everywhere and nowhere, laughing wildly. A cold, deep laugh, filled with hatred. Then he spoke, and it was undeniable. It was Erik's voice, vibrating off of the walls and into Christine's minds, "I warned you. Blood will run thicker than water, should my instructions be ignored further."

Christine's mind whirled. But she knew, deep inside, how right he was. Her Angel of Music was gone.

The Phantom of the Opera was here to stay.


End file.
